


The Landing

by TWriter



Series: To Fall or To Fly [8]
Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Blood, Bruce is freaking out, Dick is trying to hide, Jason is trying, Post-suicide attempt, family fights at inopportune times, he has a potty mouth, just so you know Jason is not at all censored, references to suicide and depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:59:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6406015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWriter/pseuds/TWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick and the Batfam arrive back at the cave to patch Dick up talk about his fall/jump.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Landing

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this one got long.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! I probably should have been doing these kinds of things earlier, but just a warning that this deals with a suicide attempt, if you haven't read the other works in this series. Also, Jason has a bit of a potty mouth, and is no where near even thinking about censoring it.

Jason froze. There had been too much in the past hour, and he couldn’t handle the Bat at the moment. It was too much. His mouth opened as if to speak, but nothing came out.

“What did you do, Todd?” demanded Damian. He moved forward as if to tackle Jason, held back only by his father’s hand on his shoulder.

“I didn’t—“

“Sure you didn’t, Jason. You’ve only tried to kill us multiple times!” shouted Tim.

“Why the fuck would I try to kill him and then call you, you dumb shits!” scream Jason, at the end of his rope.

The younger two fell silent, unable to come up with a decent argument for that. It was Bruce who finally responded.

“So if it wasn’t you, what happened to Dick?” he asked.

“I think… I think Dick happened to Dick,” replied Jason, refusing to make eye contact with his ex-mentor or his brothers.

“What do you mean, ‘Dick happened to Dick’?” asked Tim.

“I think…Dick tried to kill himself.”  
**

Dick woke up with a major headache. 

What happened to my head? I thought it shouldn’t hurt when you’re dead… thought Dick. Unless…

He opened his eyes to a sight he never expected to see. 

On the bed next to him were all three of his brothers, sound asleep. Not trying to kill each other. Damian was curled in a ball, using Tim’s leg as a pillow. Tim was leaned up against Jason, who was leaning against the headboard, his arm around Tim’s shoulders. 

“Odd sight, isn’t it?”

Dick started at the voice of his father, who was in a chair on his other side.

“Yeah,” rasped Dick. “Never thought we’d see the day they could all be in the same room without bloodshed.”

“Dick, what happened?”

Dick froze. He didn’t have an answer for that question. He hadn’t anticipated failure. A fall from that height should only end one way, as long as a meddling little brother doesn’t do something he thinks is helpful.

Of course it didn’t work. Dick can’t even die correctly. How much of a fuck-up do you have to be to fail at dying?

“I…fell,” said Dick, the lie sounding poor even to himself.

“You fell? You and I both know that you never fall. Your feet might as well be glued to the ground, with strings attaching you to the sky. Dick Grayson doesn’t fall.” Batman’s growl leaked into Bruce’s voice, and Dick couldn’t help the flinch as he felt his father’s anger roll off in waves.

“It was an accident! Can’t I have a bad day?”

“I think this was more than a bad day, son, and I want to know what is going on. Right now.”

“Nothing!”

“NOTHING DOESN’T MAKE PEOPLE TRY TO KILL THEMSELVES!” roared Bruce. The man could feel himself allowing fear to turn to anger, but struggled to reign it in. He hadn’t felt such fear for his eldest son in a long time, but the fear only grew with the realization that there wasn’t an enemy to blame. If anyone, Bruce should blame himself, should have realized that Dick was spiraling, was struggling, but he didn’t, and he was almost too late.

The three boys on the next bed woke immediately, falling into a ready position to attack the possible threat. Tim and Damian relaxed once they realized that Bruce was the only disturbance, but Jason remained tense, ready to leap in to aid his older brother should the need arise.

Dick remained silent, unable to make eye contact. How did Bruce know? 

Jason, sensing his brother’s distress, rose from the bed. “Bruce, give him a chance to speak! Let him explain!”

“There’s nothing to explain! You heard him—he told you!”

I what?

“That doesn’t mean anything, and yelling at him helps nothing! You can’t solve every goddamn problem by attacking it!”

Silence fell over the family, each waiting to see how Bruce would react. Bruce ran a hand through his hair, his normally stoic face portraying the shock he felt at Jason’s words.

“I…” Bruce stuttered. He wasn’t sure what to say. But he knew, deep down, that Jason was right. In a rare moment of weakness, he finished his thought. “I just…I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t think any of us do, Bruce,” said Tim.  
“I suggest we let Dick rest a bit before interrogating him. Do you agree, Goldie?” said Jason, hoping to return a semblance of normalcy with the use of one of his many nicknames for Dick.

“Yeah. That’d be good.” Anything to delay this conversation.

“So that’s settled. I’ll stay down here with Big Bird; you guys go upstairs. I’ll call you when he wakes up,” said Jason. 

Bruce looked like he was about to argue, but shut down at a look from Jason. Each member of the family left, unsure of how to deal with everything. Dick’s mental state wasn’t something easily fought, and Dick was usually the one the family went to when it came to emotions and the like. Soon, it was only Jason and Dick left.

“Go to sleep, Dick. You look like you could use it.”

“I…” Dick wasn’t sure how to say everything he wanted. Thanks for kicking Bruce out? Why’d you have to catch me? Why couldn’t you just let me die? “G’night, Jay.”

“Night, Dickiebird.”

**

“You handled that well, Master Jason,” said Alfred, entering the infirmary with a lunch tray. He placed a tray of sandwiches in front of Jason, along with a glass of water. He placed a few wrapped in plastic on the table next to the now-sleeping Dick. “For when he wakes up.”

“Thanks, Alfie. I, uh…I don’t know what to do from here, though,” said Jason. He missed Alfred more than anything. He needed the friendly face and grandfatherly advice, and he certainly wouldn’t get such things from Bruce.

“I imagine, sir, that you may want to speak to Dick alone before waking Master Bruce. It would seem that you are the one most able to understand where he might be coming from.”

“I…you know?” How did the elderly man know the thoughts that still ran through Jason’s head every once in a while? He shared those with no one, and had long ago suppressed the urge to the point of disappearance. 

“Little happens in this house I am unaware of, Master Jason. I am only happy that the time seems to have passed for you. I can only hope it will pass for Master Dick as well.” With that, the butler went upstairs.

Jason sat silently for another few hours, unable to sleep. Dick rested fitfully, his limbs in constant motion and his brow furrowed. Suddenly, he woke with a start, only to have Jason gently pushing his shoulder back into the pillows.

“Calm down, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Sorry. Nightmare,” panted Dick, attempting to get his breathing under control. The two brother sat in silence, the only sound Dick’s slowly calming breaths, until Jason finally broke it.

“Dick, we need to talk.”

“Aww, Jay, are you breaking up with me?” joked Dick, but the jab fell flat.

“Dick, what you said up on the roof, did you mean it?”

Dick looked at his brother, puzzled. “Is that what Bruce mentioned earlier? Jay, I don’t even know what I said. You’re all acting like I jumped on purpose or something. I fell. That’s all.” He hated to lie, but there are some things you don’t tell your younger brother, no matter how tough he thinks he is. This was one of them.

He could see in Jason’s eyes that the younger man didn’t believe him, and it was only confirmed when he next spoke. “Dick, you told me you wanted to die. I told you I caught you because I didn’t want you to die, and you told me you wanted to.”

I…I said that? Why would I say that?

“I don’t know what is going on in your head, Dickiebird, but I need to know that you aren’t going to do anything stupid. I don’t know what I would have done…Imagine what it would do to Tim and Damian! Or Bruce, Alfred, Barbara, Wally, Roy! Do you really want to do that to them? To me?”

“Jason…”

“I don’t think you get it, asshole! You almost died. Take it from someone who knows, death isn’t anything to look forward to!” Jason tried to force down his anger and fear, but it insisted on rising to the surface. He screamed at his older brother, the What were you thinkings and the Do you even cares falling so fast from his lips they blurred together. Dick tried to interrupt, but could never make it past the first word. Finally, Jason ran out of steam, his throat raw and his eyes stinging—I’m not crying, Alfred needs to dust in here more often he thought—and Dick took the opportunity to speak.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Dick, tears of his own flowing freely. “I’m sorry, Jay. I’m so sorry.”

“Dick…” said Jason, squishing himself onto the mattress and placing an arm around his older brother. Reputation be damned, he knew Dick, and he knew Dick needed a hug, and God save the person who tries to stop Jason from delivering. “Dick, don’t be sorry. Just…talk to me. Please.”

“I...” Dick faltered, trying to get his emotions under control. “I can’t.”

“Dammit, yes you can! You can always talk to me, dumbass! Don’t you know that?”

“Jason, you don’t get it—“

“YES, I DO!” shouted Jason. He took a shaky breath. “I do, Dick. I get it. You feel like the entire world might cave in at any second. You feel like you can’t do a single goddamn thing right, no matter how hard you try! You feel like there’s no reason to go on anymore, cause there’s no one that would care if you were gone, and at least it’d be over! You’re exhausted by life itself—the idea of getting up in the morning seems impossible, so half the time you don’t bother moving until it means you might piss the bed! You avoid the people you love, because you’re scared, so fucking scared that you’ll hurt them, you’ll disappoint them, that you’ll screw something up yet again, that they won’t love you back! And you dwell on that every fucking day until all you can think about is how royally screwed up you, how much of a fuck-up you are, how much you don’t deserve anything you have, how you might as well jump in front of the nearest bus so you wouldn’t be stuck with your own thoughts anymore. You can’t pass a bridge without wanting to jump, you can’t hold a knife without wanting to slice your own skin, you can’t drive a car without wanting to drive into the nearest tree, you can’t see the water without wanting to hold your head underneath until you stop breathing. You think I don’t fucking get it, Richard? I understand plenty, and I understand that if you’re to this point, that if you’ve tried and planned and are ready to take that next step, you need to let someone in before It’s too late!”

Dick was stunned into silence. The thoughts that ran through his head every day, the never-ending exhaustion of being alive and just wanting to fall asleep forever, the constant impulse to use whatever was nearby to end it all? How did Jason know it all?

“Dickie, I get it because I lived it. And let me tell you, it might not all go away, but it sure as hell helps to know that you have someone in your corner. Please. Talk to me.”

“I-I didn’t know.”

“It isn’t something I announce to the world, you know.”

“So…how did you get it to not be so hard?”

“Honest answer?”

“Yeah.”

“I died. But since we aren’t tossing you in the Lazarus Pit, we’ll need to find a better method for you.”


End file.
